


Unfulfilled

by xantissa



Series: Unravelled [2]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: D/s themes, M/M, Rough Sex, some BDSM themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:26:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/760813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xantissa/pseuds/xantissa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of a night of comforting passion, and pain that didn’t really go away.<br/>Sequel: this story is second in the series, a sequel to “Unbound” 2005</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfulfilled

**Author's Note:**

> I'm posting older stories from 2004/2005 so be gentle

Nick stared at the blue fiber under the microscope. His eyes hurt from the strain of processing so many different fibers under the harsh, artificial light. He felt strange, remote, not really involved in what he was doing. The events of the night before replayed in his mind, over and over again, like a movie in a broken camera. 

Broken.

That was a good description of the state he’d been in the previous evening. Raw and hurt, unable to keep it all inside for even a minute longer; yet still he couldn’t let go. It hurt too much, terrified him too much. He’d felt fragile, like he was made from thin glass; one high note would have been enough to shatter him into a million pieces that no one would be able to gather together. It would have left the outside reflecting the shards of brokenness that he was holding inside.

God only knew what would have happened if he’d been left alone that night. It was bad enough that he’d damaged his knuckles so badly in his attempt to keep control or get it all out; he wasn’t even sure now. He might just have gone further. But he wasn’t left alone. Grissom had offered his help, in his own odd quiet way. And the whole day Nick was reminded of what happened between them. It was in the soreness of his wrists, in the painful way his shirt rubbed over the abused nipples, in the way he avoided sitting on the hard stool in the lab and the high necked shirt he was wearing to hide the bites. He reveled in the soreness that reverberated through his body with every movement. It was a reminder that he was alive and of what had occurred between them. 

The memory was etched in the sheets on his bed, still smelling of Grissom. It was such a foreign scent but at the same time familiar to him. 

Nick was never really aware just how much of Grissom he knew, how much he remembered. His smell, the sound of his voice, the way he moved. He’d also known that he would be alone when he woke up again. 

He was right.

Gil was long gone by the time he opened his eyes, the other side of bed cold and lonely. Nick never really knew just how lonely he was until that morning. It was stupid of him, he knew, wishing that Grissom would somehow magically fall in love with him and stay. He knew his boss; this incredibly non-judgmental man, that was also the best CSI he had ever known. Knew him to be emotionally unavailable, just like Sarah once called Gil.

The day before, he’d actually thought that it would be a one-time deal. That Gil would take away the pain he was in, force him to release the tension and make him forget. He thought that was what he wanted and would be able to handle that. But, in the harsh light of day, he understood the foolishness of that; he was never one for one night stands. He could actually count of the fingers of one hand how many casual lovers he ever had. He just wasn’t that kind of man. He loved sex of course, like everyone else, but for him it was intimacy; and Nick could be intimate with only those he trusted.

He trusted Griss with his life. 

Nick didn’t want to make a scene, be too clingy or needy. He was still feeling vaguely ashamed of his neediness the night before. So, he restrained himself to merely watching Gil; watching him move, like a ghost, through the labs and hearing the almost soundless steps. Smelling the lingering scent of the man in his office: books, soap and something else… something surprisingly sharp and sensual. It was funny how he was attuned to that scent after only one night together. 

He’d never had a lover that would take control over him to such degree. He’d fooled around before, but that wasn’t anything ‘real’, like last night had been. Past lovers had tied him up a few times, but they’d both known that it was only a game. That was the problem with his female lovers; no matter how much they or he tried, he always knew that he was bigger and physically stronger. He couldn’t let go, knowing that one careless move from him, and he could hurt any of them. So he hid his need, learned to live with it, treat it like a harmless, unreal fantasy and went to the gym instead.

Catherine had laughed at him when he’d said that he didn’t understand why women went to all that trouble just to look good. Injections and rigorous diets etc. – she’d pointed out that to have muscles like he had, he needed to go to the gym at least five times a week and be on a low fat diet. She was wrong, but he didn’t correct her. He went to the gym, because it was sometimes the only way to release the tension, to sweat away all the horrors of his work. It wasn’t quite so bad when they caught the perpetrators. But, when they worked their asses off to collect and process evidence, identified the suspect and then were forced to watch him go free, just because he was rich... at those times, something inside him turned and he felt just this close to dealing justice by himself. He knew it was wrong, so instead of beating the shit out of somebody, he went to the gym and worked out until his body screamed at him; until his clothes were saturated in sweat, too tired to eat, and barely able to stand. 

Nick envied Gil’s impassive face; the gentle yet unreadable face that hid every emotion and left only a mask for the world to see. Even now, looking at Gil through the glass window, he couldn’t see anything different in his boss; there was absolutely no indication that they spent the previous night together. He was all cool professionalism. He felt a myriad of emotions because of that. Anger, that even after what happened between them, he still couldn’t read Gil. Regret, that he wasn’t worthy enough for Gil to share that part of himself with Nick. He couldn’t really be sure that what he saw in Grissom was how the man felt. After all, he sometimes saw Gil encouraging Sarah. Saw him flirt with the woman, and then brush her off as if nothing happened. It made him distrustful of his interpretations of his boss’ face. If Gil didn’t share, then he could never be sure what the man felt. 

Staring at Gil through the many glass walls in the lab, like some kind of stupid schoolgirl, hoping for any indication that there really was something more between them than simple sex, was pointless. His shift was already done anyway, so Nick decided to wrap the samples up and go home; it wasn’t like the fibers would be going anywhere.

As he started to pack away, the shifting of his clothes over his body, once more reminded him of the previous night. The abused nipples sent a wave of arousal to his cock. He cringed. He wished that he could revel in carrying the marks of a man who loved him. That it were a sign that someone cherished and loved him enough to place their marks on his body. The arousal faded for the time being, under the weight of depression that he felt settling on him. It took him another half an hour before he was actually able to head to the lockers, every move tormented his sensitive areas. The shift had required him to visit some pretty damn awful places and as a result his shirt had soaked through sweat that had since dried and was starting to smell; so a shower was definitely in order.

Stepping into the locker room, he made sure he was alone. It would be difficult to explain some of the marks he had on his body. To an outsider it could really look like he’d been assaulted, and although he probably could explain the marks, he really didn’t feel like discussing his fantasies with his colleagues. 

He couldn’t forget the air of sheer strength that had come off of the man in waves, forcing and freeing Nick to submit… allowing him to let go. He closed his eyes stepping under the hot, almost scalding shower. The heat and water pressure, slowly but surely, beat away the stress and tension of the day. Nick could finally feel the way his muscles relaxed, and even the sting of patches of abused skin changed into pleasurable numbness. His mind was playing the event of the previous night in vivid Technicolor behind his closed eyelids, refusing him even that moment of peace. 

With a tired sigh, he reached for the soap and worked it over himself. He felt both refreshed by the shower and more tired at the same time, he was emotionally exhausted. All he wanted right then, was to fall into his comfortable bed and sleep for twelve hours straight. Finally, he stepped out of the shower and toweled himself dry quickly, thankful that he was still alone in the locker room.

It was probably a testimony of how tired he was, that he only realized that someone was watching him, when he was almost completely dressed. He was just starting to button up the fresh shirt when he became aware of the eyes watching him. The room was still dark and quiet, but he could sense something different, something intense there in the shadows.

And just like that, never even seeing the other person, Nick knew. Knew who was there, watching him from the shadows. So, when Gil stepped out from between the rows of lockers, he wasn’t really surprised yet still, he froze. 

Nick stilled completely, his fingers in the process of pushing the first button through it’s hole. He couldn’t read Gil; his body language wasn’t betraying a thing, his face hidden by the beard and the shadows that still obscured it. Even his glasses were a wall that hid Grissom from the outside world. 

However, the intensity of the older man wasn’t the only thing that mesmerized him so much. It was his own need, his desire for the older man that slammed into him with the force of a sledgehammer. The almost distant longing that had haunted him throughout the day changed into a burning, all consuming desire, that overheated his skin and shortened his breath.

Nick could feel his oversensitive body reacting to the cool air as it touched his damp skin, making his nipples erect. He wanted to cover himself from the piercing eyes. But another part of him, the one that he was still ashamed of… the part that reveled in the power Gil had over him, was now making him stand still, bared in front of Grissom. That part of him was making him feel pride in the fact that Grissom looked; that he came here… came to Nick. 

The Texan could almost taste the way Gil looked at the marks on his body. At the multitude of finger shaped bruises and the dark red, still extremely sore nipples, which Griss had treated with such sweat cruelty the night before.

Nick couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed the older man. Needed his touch, the feel of his breath on his skin, the moisture of his tongue and the hard, unyielding power of Grissom’s cock breaching him; filling and possessing him beyond anything he’d ever known. Nick looked up into the eyes that rarely betrayed any emotion. His mouth was dry and his heart beat twice as fast as it should. He could hear the thunder of his own blood rushing through his veins. 

Before he knew it, before he really had the time to think about what he was doing, Nick could hear the hoarse, broken whisper fall from his own dry lips.

“Please...”

Somehow, that little, ragged word seemed to break through to Grissom better than anything else he might have done.

Slowly, but with a focus that was so characteristic of Grissom, the older man moved closer, reaching with his right hand towards Nick’s bared chest. When Gil’s thumb racked over the abused nipple, leaving a trail of fire in it’s wake, the younger man couldn’t stop the broken moan that escaped him. 

The spell of stillness was suddenly broken and Nick surged forwards, tangling his hands into Grissom’s hair. He opened his mouth, inviting Gil closer, deeper and surrendered himself to the other man.

At Nick’s moan, something seemed to snap in Grissom. One of his hands found it’s way to the nape of the younger man’s neck and closed, hard, pulling the Texan closer. 

Nick couldn’t stop the shamelessly submissive whimper at the gentle yet forceful way Grissom handled him. It seemed so effortless, so natural on his boss’ side. It made Nick ache even more for Gil, for his touch, for his strong presence. 

From the commanding, almost angry way that Grissom’s lips devoured his, Nick knew it would be the last time it happened. In the almost harsh, yet tender way Gil’s other hand stroked his sore nipples, eliciting whimpers and moans, there was a clear message. Gil was angry at losing control like that, at giving in to his own desires and needs. If there was one thing he knew about his boss, it was that he rarely made the same mistake twice. 

The kiss gentled and slowed finally. Gil was backing away from it, from Nick, and the younger man tried to stop him, tried to keep him for a bit longer. He pressed his chest against the rough uniform jacket, and opened his mouth more, offering himself, almost begging for more. It hurt like Hell when Gil pulled away anyway. Hands that just a moment ago caressed him roughly, were now pushing him away with the kind of finality that only Gil Grissom could manage. The only physical connection between them the hands that now kept Nick at arms length.

“Nick...” The older man started and stopped. His inability to communicate his feelings was making itself clearly known. “I... this can’t happen again, Nicky. Last night... was special. But it should remain that way. A last night that shouldn’t happen again.” 

He moved his hands as if needing, wanting to touch but stopped the movement halfway and stepped back. Gil’s face closed off, becoming unreadable and impassive once again. “It would only hurt you, Nicky.” The last words were said so very softly, gently almost but the tone left no room for argument. 

Shocked at the pure conviction in Grissom’s voice, Nick couldn’t find the right words to stop Gil, to convince him that he was wrong. Maybe Nick needed the physical pain, the roughness of sex that only a man could give him, but he wasn’t weak or vulnerable. He was strong, he could handle Gil, but the older man wasn’t going to even give him a chance to explain. He was already turning away. Seeing his last chance slipping away, Nick opened his mouth to call after Gil, but Greg entering the locker room in his usually bouncy and loud way, stopped him short. 

He could only watch, as Gil left the room in his usual quiet way. He was aware of Greg in some part of his mind, but he wasn’t Nick’s main focus. As the older man disappeared from view along with his only chance to start something with his boss, Nick cursed and slammed his locker shut with much more force than strictly necessary. 

Greg jumped and stopped talking, looking in surprise at the usually light spirited Texan. 

“Uh... Nick?” Asked Greg, unsure of his welcome.

Nick didn’t answer, just pulled his jacket on and left the locker room without looking back. Angry, Nick reached his car, his mood getting only darker with each step. He knew Grissom well enough to know that he would use the time away from Nick to distance himself, to shut down any feelings he might have had. And when he saw Griss tomorrow, everything would be just like it was before, the night they spent together as unreal as any other dream. 

 

The End


End file.
